


Neon Butterfly

by CinnamonrollStark



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Death, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Endgame, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 18:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonrollStark/pseuds/CinnamonrollStark
Summary: "You Can Rest Now."From what he remembers, these are Pepper's words, spoken through a vale of tears and sorrow.Except, they won, right? New York is safe, and Tony survived the wormhole.But ever since, he's been having memories, flashes of a life that isn't his... yet.The year is 2012, and Tony has to find a way to make thos right again- to get back to the daughter he remembers so well, and the boy he is so sure is his own. To his wife, to his life, and to peace.





	Neon Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> So, heres the thing. I think we are all suffering post-endgame depression. I know I am. And (spoilers) after Tony's and Natasha's death, and Steve's venture back to be with the woman he loves, I've been doing some cold hard thinking.   
> Time travel had to effect their past selves somehow.  
> Like, you've heard of the butterfly effect, right? Just like that.

_We'll be okay. You can rest now._

A jolt of adrenaline washes over Tony's entire body, making the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stick up. It's a feeling he's altogether far too familiar with, but something in it has changed, a mechanism misfiring in the back of his mind.

Because, Tony Stark is dead.

And yet, he is here. December 2012. Snow falls outside his window and to the ground, where the gentle patter of the frozen powder meets soft earth sings a lullaby to the birds and creatures who would normally begin to wake at this early hour.

The memory isn't full, not quite yet, but the painful realism of what it meant, and at what cost it was gained, is a weight on his chest, so deeply heavy that it presses choked sobs out from his diaphragm. Pepper is there, again, arms wrapped around his middle, an instantaneous effort to console, although she is blissfully unaware of what brings him so much pain.

This is because, since New York, he's been waking up like this at least once a week, usually more. Tears are not new, and have been more steadily flowing as of late than they were, even, in his childhood years. Usually, though, they cease within minutes. 

This morning, he is inconsolable. At least, fir a good half hour. When he has finally gotten this unknown greif from his system, he wipes his eyes and breathes out a trembling sigh, leaning back against Pepper's chest, warm and soft against his bare skin.

Pep circles around him and places her hands on the sides of his cheeks, kissing a cheekbone and pulling away to draw him in.

Something in the way she does this is eerily familiar. There are flashes, flashes of light- or more so, dark- around her, a memory from some lost moment. 

He wants to shut it out, but in looking at her, something in him breaks just a little bit. But he pushes past that, which is easier said than done, falling into the rhythm of her comfort.

◇◇◇

Tony makes dinner that night. Nothing overly complicated, just steak and a salad for the both of them. The smells of cooking waft up and around him, and he tries to discern whether what he is feeling is nostalgia or anxiety. He remembers this, the warmth of the stove and the empty fullness of the kitchen. Perhaps he's overanalyzing this, but something tells him that he isn't.

"Hey," she says, quietly at his side. Her small hands grip his t-shirt and tug, soft and gentle. "Can I have a juice pop?"

"Not before dinner, baby." He answers before thinking. And he looked down, expecting to see her. Morgan, pint sized, a perfect mix of he and Pepper's features. But in looking down to find that there is nothing, he remembers that there should logically be no child in the picture. He and Pepper haven't even talked about kids, not yet. But he does remember- Pepper's uncle Morgan.

And the spot, that empty spot he felt so fully occupied beside him, is looks nothing like he imagined it was meant to. The floor is all wrong, and the kitchen is far too large. This is not where he is meant to be, and certainly not when. 

When they sit down to eat, Tony can't help but notice the lack of a third chair. There is no child, no daughter, no perfect mix. Only emptiness.

"Pep," Tony starts, when he realizes he is unable to eat.

"Something is very, very wrong."


End file.
